


Hold the Line

by orphan_account



Category: Naruto
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Triggers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-18
Updated: 2014-04-18
Packaged: 2018-01-19 22:04:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1485706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of drabbles featuring two lovebirds who don't quite know how to express their feelings.<br/>Or.<br/>Hashirama and Madara bangin' every other chapter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The first time they fuck it is overwrought with lust. Quick and frenzied. Much like their first battle against one another, both wanting it to end just as quickly as it started and last for an eternity. It occurs in a forest surrounded by trees and and tall grass, their weapons are forgotten, broken and and bloodied by the battle taking place in and outside the forest.

Their punches, blocks and kicks echo throughout the woods, until Madara sees an opening and seizes Hashirama's neck. Hashirama grips Madara's wrist, and the Uchiha squeezes harder forcing him down to his knees. Madara follows him to the ground ready to kill, Sharingan spinning dangerously. Hashirama's hips are straddled by the man above him, arms pinned by strong legs and his eyes burn when Madara keeps their eyes locked.

An excruciating pain rips through Hashirama when he tries to claw his way back to reality.

Specks of white blot his vision and his breathing becomes even more ragged when he feels arousal press against his hip. The hand on his neck leaves to join the hold on his shoulder and Hashirama can barely breathe as he and Madara keep their gazes locked tight. The man above him shifts his weight and Hashirama feels his own arousal forming.

He doesn't realize he's being flipped to his stomach until the last minute. His knees are pulled apart and battle-worn slacks stripped from his rear. Hashirama doesn't fight Madara's hold on his shoulder or hip, instead gripping the grass below him when he feels Madara slide into him. It's carnal, animalistic and he lets the initial pain subside into a slow aching burn as he lets quiet breaths leave him. Madara grunts behind him when Hashirama clenches around him, pushing his hips back when a sensitive spot is hit making him fall to his elbows. The sounds of their fucking escape their mouths and its over. Just as quickly as it had began Madara spills into him and slips out. Hashirama is left on the forest floor, drained and dazed.

The second and third time are hardly different from the first. Both their minds clouded with unknown emotions, eyes glazed and shining with ulterior motives. The second time is months after the first, Madara takes him against a boulder in the lightning country as the clouds gather around them. The third time is days after the second and neither has a problem lying to their brother about where they disappeared to during battle. They'd think it'd stop after the sixth. Izuna is dead and Madara is rough, rougher than before, nearly killing Hashirama and leaving him bleeding near a river in Fire country. But it is all too routine, too familiar and neither can deny the lust any longer.

Now, Hashirama has Madara pressed against one of the walls of the Fire daimyo's many guest rooms. They've been invited to the wedding of someone neither of them care to remember, and because of the Uchiha and the Senju seemingly being on friendlier terms both were surprised to see the other. Until they weren't. A hand trails down his yukata and he lets it tug the sash from his waist. They're grinding against each other, rubbing and licking and kissing against one another, against their better judgment, against their clans wishes, against a rather lavish tapestry that could fall away any moment if he doesn't get on with it! Madara reminds him between hickeys and panting against Hashirama's neck.

He waste no time, knowing the festivities are going to be begin any moment and the early morning spar the two had, which was now becoming their way of coaxing the other into another fuck, did nothing to give them time before the wedding. The spar was after dawn, the two knowing the other was out and when their gazes met there was an immediate reaction to unsheathe their blades and fight. When it ended, after nearly three hours, the sun painting the sky an orange hue, Hashirama had Madara pinned and tangled with his Mokuton. Before things could advance any further a servant made their appearance and request they clean themselves before the wedding. Hashirama released Madara and the two proceeded to bathe, and eye each other until Hashirama all but pounced Madara outside a, fortunately, vacant guest room.

At least they would have an excuse for being so red-faced and out of breath. Madara pushes off the wall and walks Hashirama backwards to the bed where they topple over the other for dominance. Hashirama grips the sheets on either side of the Uchiha and ruts against the man below him as his yukata falls open.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A time-lapse and continuation. Very vague

It was like being doused with cold water.

And he shouldn't have been surprised his brother was the first to tell him.

Tobirama, standing in front of his desk, an unusual quirk on his lip and a satisfied look in his eye, cracking his usual condescending mask, seeming to enjoy the scandalized look on Hashirama's face.

Hashirama, on his part, refused to believe the allegations, the whole truth of the situation. Only wanting to believe Madara would tell him on his own, give an explanation, say his brother was wrong and he was an idiot for listening to the gossip Tobirama was spewing from his mouth, he waited.

Hashirama sat in his office, anxiety creeping its way up his neck as he went through paperwork, refusing to let the stress get the best of him. It had been hours.

Even though his brother had given him the information in the early hours of the morning, it had been hours.

Now, the busy sounds of noon have set in, and Hashirama is well aware of the Uchiha - especially their clan leader's - need to scout about the village and occasionally - usually, almost always - check in on the Hokage.

And so, Hashirama waited.

Not as patiently as he thought he had but when he heard the faint but familiar clacking of sandals outside his window he couldn't deny the sweat on his brow nor the rate his heart beat in his chest when he turned to greet Madara. He was nervous, which he thought was unusual at the time, and would later learn the reason behind in the following year.

As Madara stepped through a window of the Hokage office, Hashirama with a happy resolve and a feeling of relief set aside his paperwork and gives a wide smile to Madara.

"Hashirama." They had seen one another the previous day, albeit the circumstances weren't entirely friendly but the events that'd taken place that day have nothing to do with what was on their minds today.

He doesn't flinch when Madara shoves him forcefully against his desk. He doesn't refuse when he is bent across the polished wood and scattered papers. God knows he could never deny this man a thing. And so Hashirama is ready, ready to claw and mewl at the desk beneath him.

Hashirama let's out a breath that sounds faintly like a whimper and he hears Madara groan behind him. He feels the hot breath on his neck, the rumble run up his spine, across his back and holds back the moan in his throat.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hickies

Hashirama doesn’t bruise easily.  
This is why Madara works carefully, slowly when they’re alone. Marking him and whispering into his neck before dragging his teeth along Hashirama’s collarbone.  
And his Senju’s breath stops short as he trails slow kisses down his abdomen. Madara feels the heartbeat thrumming under his fingertips and the groans echo under his tongue when he slides his lips along those taut muscles and noses at the hairs near the gentle dip of Hashirama’s stomach.  
The area under his thighs are especially sensitive and Madara pinches and prods at them when Hashirama spreads his legs.   
And Madara smiles against the skin before sucking and kissing at the welt forming on those hips when he hears the stutter of breath and the pant of his name.  
There’s a type of selfish satisfaction that overcomes Madara when he grips the hands sliding through his hair as he moves lower, adding fresh bruises to the fading marks on Hashirama’s inner thighs.

**Author's Note:**

> Just another post from my tumblr.


End file.
